A small prologue for you all. Its mainly just an overview of Pariah and then how Chris is settling after the trial, enjoy and thanks for all 346 reviews for Pariah :D.
Also, my friend booklover13 drew a picture of Chris with my changes :P. The URL is in my profile :).
Also, the winner of the poll was Hero's Complex, so that will be appearing soon :D.
-Prologue : Reproba Orsa- (False Beginning)
Faintly, he could hear the roar of the crowd from the arena, and it made his heart race. The rush before a show is what got him excited and to be able to embrace it fully was welcoming to him. With a small smile, Chris put the final touches on his eye makeup, the beautiful sage green eyes decorated with black eyeliner. His hair was still the pitch black color with the icy blue tips.
Standing back, Chris couldn't help but wonder what he would like if he didn't travel down the path he has. Five years ago, Chris barred his home and life a farewell and left. The then sixteen year old found himself on a corner in Los Angeles, strumming the guitar that his Uncle Henry gave him for money. Two weeks later, his best friend – and now lover – Tyler Larson found him and promptly yelled at Chris. And after a lunch, Chris dropped the reasoning behind the erupt change in life.
For thirteen years, his father both physically and mentally abused him.
Tyler was horror shocked and any idea of dragging the Halliwell home flew out the window. Instead, Tyler thought that with Chris's guitar and his own bass skills, they could form a make-shift band, perhaps not well enough to be famous, but to do covers, and to simply live.
However, within a matter of a year and half, the two teenagers found themselves on tour and gathering a small army of fans which were quickly dubbed The Outcasts, the meaning to their band name: Pariah. Soon enough, the family grew and with three records under their belts, the two young men were only gaining success and were now in Barcelona, Spain, the last venue of their recent world tour.
However, the idea of hiding from his family and his past blew up in the Halliwell's face. Apparently fate decided that it didn't like the Halliwell's divided like they were. A few months ago, Chris's godfather – Derek Anderson – was tragically killed in a car accident, and his godbrother, Aaron, was badly injured.
Out of family duty, and with some persuasive words from Tyler, Chris and he ventured back to San Francisco and back into the Halliwell family's lives. Thus began the whirlwind that nearly tore Chris at the seams. It began by pouring his secret to his mother and brother and then to the rest of his extended family. Instantly, Leo was shunned from the family.
That didn't stop the man.
While on the road, two attempts were made on Chris's life, and both were nearly successful.
Then came the Sanctus Humus, or Holy Group. It was a council of benevolent magical beings that made rulings on difficulties in the magical communities and were the ones to write the rules that all good magical beings abided to. However, with the appearance of the Elders, the Sanctus Humus faded into non-existence.
But with the last name Halliwell, the unbelievable became believable quite easily. With a simple spell, Chris found himself prosecuting his father for abuse charges. After divulging information he never wanted to, Chris won the case and Leo was sentence to remain the rest of his life as a mortal, thus being a death charge, and to stay at least 300 feet away from Chris.
That was three weeks ago.
Chris ran a hand though his hair, the dyed strands now brushing against the top of his shoulder. With a sigh, he placed his eyeliner on the small table in front of him and grabbed the black earring stud. Pushing his hair behind his right ear, Chris slid it into his ear. He shook his head to release the caught hair. Next he picked up the sound box that he had to wear so the audience could hear his guitar and voice as he sang. He slipped that into his tight black back jeans pocket. He was about to plug in the cord when a sharp knock came on the door.
"Cinco…five minutes sir," A heavily accented tone came from behind the door.
Chris sighed, "Gracies," he called out before setting his earphones in.
With a heavy exhale, Chris leaned in hands, the table bracing his weight. Haunted sage green eyes stared back him.
He was in Barcelona, Spain.
He was the lead singer of a big rock band.
He would be returning to the states soon to film a new music video.
Then why the Hell is dread sitting on his shoulders?
Why would he lay awake at night, and wonder about every 'What If' that could grace his mind?
With a sigh, Chris stood fully and straightened his black vest, the taut fabric clinging to his thin frame. "Everything is fine," he whispered to himself.
Closing his eyes, Chris calmed his heart and breathing. Tonight would be a good night. It's the last night of the world tour, and it would be the best. His illness has subsided with the aid of Dayquil and he prayed that the medicine would hold up until the end of the concert.
Chris let his eyes ease open and frowned when Leo's hateful stare returned. "You…will never return," Chris hissed and walked away; slamming the door shut behind him.
